Faal Kurziik Rel Kro
by HimitsuItami
Summary: It's Fourth Era, 204. Cyrodiil is still recovering from the war with the Aldmeri Dominion, and now a civil war has broken out in the province of Skyrim. A civil war that a Dark Brotherhood Assassin named Skadi Lufthejt manages to land herself in the middle of. She's trying to get her life back in order after walking into that Imperial ambush, just like those Stormcloak soldiers.


Skadi is a nord who has migrated across the border. Not all too keen on following the traditional "BATTLE FOR HONOR!" nordic culture. She follows a criminal path, sneaking, poisoning, and killing. Her family becomes ashamed of her and plans to kick her out when she overhears them talking. She kills them and burns the house down, telling the nearby town that it had been a vampire attack before leaving. She continues traveling from town to town, eventually ending up in the capital of Cyrodiil, the Imperial City. Hell was ensuing in the capital, and it was rather profitable to Skadi, who acted as a hired killer.

That is until she is contracted to kill a man named Bastion. He's a Sellsword, and his own contractor has hired Skadi to take him out. The contractor was growing weary of the impulsive mercenary and entered a business proposal with Skadi that, in return for his head, she would receive a generous amount of gold. Bastion was considered a threat to the contractor's brothers and sisters because of his hot-headed actions and impulsive attitude. He had already been imprisoned once and became known as a wanted man in both Whiterun and the surrounding farmland. She left the imperial province for the mission and begun to carry it out without a second thought. She had stalked him for weeks, learned his habits and place of stay. Listened in on his conversations even. Bastion was unaware of the others' plan to be rid of him, and soon came the day he was assigned a most risky task: to murder the Jarl of Falkreath- Siddgeir. The dangers to be considered lay most prominently around having convoluted plans to reach, kill, and clean up any tracks after the Jarl's death. The method of death was simple- no dodgy poisons or cowardly attempts, but to use his own blades to force death upon the arrogant ruler. It is then that Bastion was intercepted by Skadi inside of a minor Inn near the border of Skyrim. It was during the night, after she had watched, and waited for him to fall asleep.

A fine habit of his (for safety precautions) allowed him to wake in time to find the female assassin who had picked her way in; before bed, he would place, through the pitcher-like handle of the door, a broom or stick's length. It would reach the floor, and to open the door would cause the object to either grind against, or fall to, the floor. Skadi had picked the lock with silence, and walked through the door, unaware of the stick in the door's knob until it emitted a low thudding grating noise as it scraped the floor. In a quick second she shut the door, withdrew her daggers and pounced on top of her target, straddling his waist in what would normally be an inappropriate way. Before he could move, her daggers were pressed against his neck. She had been about to complete her contract when he spoke groggily.

"But it's late.. I couldn't even sleep for a li'l while before someone comes bounding in for this." His voice was hoarse with sleep, and he cleared his throat. Bastion laid still beneath his assailant, his heartbeat beginning to quicken a bit as he woke more.

A lupine chuckle escaped Skadi's mouth at his reaction. "Someone put a pretty price on your head, Bastion. This is your end."

More awake, he blinked wearily and shifted his hips beneath her. He cursed aloud, closing his eyes. "A woman this time, eh?" One marsh-green eye opened to feast upon her form over him. He closed it back with a miniscule mix of a smirk and smile of appreciation. "Well I don't have time for dying. Mayhaps we should compromise...?" Silence pierced the room as his mind raced to formulate a plan and compromise- not an easy task upon wake.

"Oh? You want to compromise with me? To be honest, it's not a first, nor will it be the last. I don't compromise unless you're paying me more than the person who contracted me." She had noticed the small smirk on his lips. "What have you to offer me?"

"I've got plenty to offer- only in return for my life. How about this, then? My next stop is Skyrim. I've a job there that pays well, and with a generous sum for you... I'll offer..." He made a purposefully pointed gesture of thought before deciding with a huff. His gaze turned to the open door, refusing to meet her eyes lest his man-pride be wounded. After all, it wouldn't do to die... "My loyalty."

* * *

She cracked her eyes open, groaning at the light that seemingly pierced into her pupils. The grumbling noise of a carriage slowly faded into her hearing as she mustered the strength to fully open her eyes and look around. Her head throbbed from where she could only assume she had been practically clubbed by the Legion soldiers. Today had not been a good day for her, what with the certainty of a concussion and all.

Looking around the cart, she noticed several nord men clad in Stormcloak garb. Oh boy, this'll be interesting at the very least, and ending at the most. She could think of several places they might be going based on seeing the Rebel uniforms in the cart with her. Skyrim was enduring a bloody and long-lasting civil war. It wasn't just something that the empire could squash in a month or two, this had been something that was now dragging on for several months, or at least, it had been several months since the Imperial Empire had reported its military movements to the civilians of Cyrodiil.

And now, despite all of her hoping and praying to her selected divine, it appeared that she was smack in the middle of it all. Probably going to prison, especially if she was grouped up with these rebellious soldiers. If course, if they had waited another day before going back over the border, this could have all been side stepped, but instead Creech had insisted, complained and continued on about crossing the border, to the point of sheer frustration on Skadi's behalf. In a moment of pure annoyance, she agreed to cross the border, if it would only make him stop talking.

Her companion, the red-headed Bastion Creech, sat across from her but his head was still heavy with unconsciousness and she could even see what appeared to be a nasty red gash across his forehead from the deciding blow; she couldn't see it very well, and could only guess to how bad the mark truly was now that they had sat unconscious for, judging by the scenery, about half an hour. When they had first been ambushed by the Imperial Legion, her companion had been loudly blabbering about something along the lines of taking out a target, which had most likely cued the Legion in on their arguably suspicious plans.

The Legionnaires had sprung out from a nearby cave, their wagons waiting further up the road. Certainly, they had been waiting for the Stormcloaks when they decided that they needed to take the pair into custody; and of course Bastion was the first of the two to fall. Having been taken completely by surprise, he was rendered unconscious by a bash to the forehead. Skadi liked to think that had the soldier's gauntlets not been made of steel and instead leather, Bastion would have been more use in the fight. By herself, she only succeeded in violently maiming a few of the Legion members; but who knows! They would most likely end up bleeding out and dying from those wounds if there was no healer present, and from what she could see, that would be correct.

What a help you were buddy, can't wait to see you wake up and worry over that oh-so-charming face of yours. She thought sarcastically as she stared down at him, snorting once in an indignant manner. This situation was just too loathsome to be caught up in at this time. She had important things to do today, or well, rather, in the not-so-distant future. She still had to contact the Brotherhood, carry out a contract with Bastion, then in turn finish up her contract with him. Yes, yes, he had promised his loyalty to her, but that didn't mean that he could be trusted to keep his word, or that she could even possibly consider not killing him once her use for him is over.

She was after all, still a Brotherhood Assassin.

"Hey you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." A blonde nord male said, looking directly at her, his accent was thick, heavy and husky without any hint of the Imperial accent having impeded. This broadly framed man sat directly in front of her, his light hair braided on the side and left loose to hang freely in the wind. While he was rather dirty looking and smelt of hard travel, he was still a rather handsome and attractive man. His accent described him perfectly. Within a few seconds she had decided that he was a pleasing face to wake up to; what with his strong jaw, focused blue eyes and long blonde hair. He was a good representation of what most of the Empire saw when they thought of Skyrim, or Nords. Hopefully he wouldn't comply to the archetype of also being a racist, bigoted and anti-magic.

Because that would fuck her over in so many ways if this wasn't a one-way ticket to the afterlife.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." The dark haired thief said, before turning his attention to Skadi. "You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these _damn Stormcloaks_ the Empire wants."

It was only the Stormcloaks that the Imperial Legion wanted? Wow was this man flawed in his thinking and logic. Of course, he didn't know who she was to begin with, so of course he would assume that she was either innocent or committed some minor infraction on the law. She smiled slightly. "Yeah, me nor my companion should be here either in all honesty."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde haired man reminded the crook, his tone blunt and honest. He was after all, telling the truth in it all. The Legion was not going to stop and ask them questions before throwing them into prison. That was just how things worked; there was no fair trial for treason or murder, if you were known to be a law-breaker; this was why rich friends or employers came in handy. Everyone could be bought out for a price, it was just a different price for each person.

"Shut up back there!" The Imperial carriage driver barker over his shoulder. This was the reason Skadi loathed being a prisoner to such an extent. Do one wrong thing, and you get to be treated like shit by the guards, soldiers and whatever other person happens to see you. It didn't matter what you did, you would never be able to expunge that stigma against your person once you were the suspect of some crime or another.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief said, staring at a dark blonde-haired nord man, this man however, was gagged with an old rag. He was dressed differently from all the other men in the carriages. His garb was a large warm looking fur robe, chain mail woven atop the pale woolen tunic. Just from his presence she could tell that he was a figure of importance. Oblivion keep her word, if he was a genuinely important person, she would be able to identify who he was, if only she could see more than his hair, robes and the rags used to gag him. _Expensive looking robes, nordic, important and gagged? He must be important, someone that they don't want to talk to the others. Maybe he's a Commanding General? That would explain the gag on him._ But the more she looked over his robes and thought about it, another possibility came to her mind. _What if they have him gagged because he could use the voice. What if that man was the leader of the rebellion?_

Of course, this was something that she doubted. What sort of leader gets himself captured in an ambush? What sort of leader, one supposedly so heretical as Ulfric Stormcloak, would dare to venture so close to the Cyrodilic border? There was a reason that scouts and spies existed in warfare.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" The voice of the nord was agitated and reprehending in nature, as if this lowly horse thief who looked to have never bathed would know this man. Speaking of Ulfric, she did recognise him now that her suspicions had been confirmed. But really, had Ulfric really let himself be captured in such an undignified manner? She couldn't help but let out a soft, nearly inaudible scoff at the stupidity of it all. There had to be some plan behind this on Ulfric's part. Some _reason_ that he had let himself walk into something so ridiculous.

"Ulfric...? The _Jarl_ of Windhelm?" Spoke the horse thief. "You're the leader of the rebellion... But if they've captured _you_... Oh gods, where are they taking _us_?" The concern coating his words was obvious, you could tell where his mind was heading from just his words.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Blondie remarked in a somber sounding tone. Skadi had heard about the Stormcloak Rebellion. Key words, heard about. To be completely honest, one would have to say that she had zero fucks to give towards the cause of arrogant holy men trying to kill each other. She cared not which god of the pantheon was chosen to be removed, or which god was chosen to be widely worshipped. She prayed to none of the Imperial Pantheon, and when she did practice worship, it was to Nocturnal or the Dread-Father. She wondered what Bastion's beliefs were, if he had any. He was an Imperial, does he worship Akatosh? Maybe he prays to one of the Daedric Princes?

The horse thief interrupted her thoughts, "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." Urgency tainting his tone. Skadi swore that one could taste the fear he was putting off. Pathetic in her opinion. The ashen blonde man looked to the thief and told him that a nord's last thoughts should be of home. A noble sentiment, that was, if she had a home to think back on. Or a care to give about the family she had slain before burning that house down.

"What about you?" He asked.

A thin smile crossed her lips before it curled into a slight smirk that was gone as soon as it appeared. Sometimes, she just couldn't help herself. "I have no home or family to return to."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" A reporting soldier called out as they entered a walled town. The thief then proceeded to pray to the divines, begging for help. It was sinking in for the poor lad that they were being carted to an execution.

"Praying won't help you now, lad." Skadi remarked in a condescending way.

The blonde spoke up again, looking at a grey haired Imperial man on a horse, dressed in fabulous imperial armor.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." He paused briefly, and she looked over the small military town; the biggest building was the two towers, which stood tall in the center of the village; though, if she had to be completely honest, it wasn't that tall of a building to begin with. His comment about the Thalmor plotting revenge forced her to hold back a chuckle, though when she gave it a moment's more consideration, she could understand why the Thalmor would want to take down the heretical holy-soldiers, especially if it meant catching the leader of the rebellion that had been a thorn in their side for such a long time.

"This is Helgen," he continued, "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny- when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

A young boy could be heard in the background, "Who are they, daddy? Where are they going? I don't want to go inside, I want to watch the soldiers..." Whatever else said was cut off by the sounds of the carriage drivers bringing the horses to a stop at the front of the tower.

The first thing that Skadi noticed was how the light from the sun irritatingly peeked from behind the walls of the squat tower, causing a glare that shone directly into her eyes and caused her to squint. Through her squinched up eyes, she quickly spotted the black hooded headsman, standing tall with his polished axe, the blade long a wicked, the edge glinting in the sunlight.

"Why are we stopping?" The thief asked in a frightful voice

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blonde replied. Skadi looked to Bastion, apathetic at seeing him finally regaining his consciousness. At this point in time, she wasn't sure if he was worth more to her dead, or living. She had already been paid a pretty septim to carry out his assassination, but he had offered his reluctant loyalty along with a generous cut of whatever his next job's pay was.

The Blonde man looked at Skadi as he stood up, "let's go. Let's not keep the gods waiting for us."

"No wait! We're not rebels!" The thief proclaimed frantically as soon as the soldiers began unloading the prisoners from the back of the three wagons and lining them up into rows in front of a orange clad priestess and the executioner.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Blondie seemed to chide.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief pleaded.

With a groggy overtone, Bastion's voice spoke out from behind her, "wait, waaas happenin'?"

The voice of the Imperial Captain rang out over the protests as Bastion, Skadi and the blonde stepped off the carriage. "Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time."

"The empire loves their damn lists." The Stormcloak remarked.

The tall, brown haired, brown eyed man next to the captain read the list for our wagon full. Jarl Ulfric was named first, he stepped toward the block. The blonde was called next, his name was Ralof, and he was from Riverwood. Next the the horse thief, Lokir, was called.

"No! I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" He screamed. "You can't kill me, I've done nothing wrong! Nothing that deserves death! I'm not a rebel, this is injustice!"

And with that, he took off, running down the road with his hands bound in front of him.

The captain called out in her flat but commanding voice, telling him once to stop. When he refused to hear her order, she readied an archer.

Poor sop didn't even make it thirty yards before he was struck down by an arrow between his ribs. The deep crimson could be seen as it began staining his ragged tunic. He staggered, falling sideways, his agonised yowling broken up by gurgling noise as he apparently began to drown in his own blood. Normal people would have cringed, flinched or even felt empathy and pity for the milkdrinker, but Skadi nor Bastion, nor the battle hardened soldiers of Helgen felt a thing. He was told to stop, and he hadn't. Did he deserve death, by arrow or axe? Probably not, but Skyrim was a harsh land with even harsher people living within her borders.

"You there," the brown-haired list man said to Skadi, "step forward. Who are you?"

"Skadi Lufthejt." She said, voice void of any emotion, but still regally accented from her times with the Khajiit caravans.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman. Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list." Before she could answer, he asked about the redhead they had caught alongside her, and remarked that he too was not on the list for execution.

"Forget the list, they both go to the block." The, from the looks of it, Imperial-blooded captain said without a second thought to who ever's life she might be destroying.

"Captain?" The name-taker asked cautiously, seemingly taken aback by her quick decision.

"We have them both under suspect of treason, murder of officials and conspiring to murder officials. They both go to the block, Hadvar."

"By your order, captain." Hadvar said before facing Skadi and Bastion again, "I'm sorry. At least you'll get to die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain prisoners." This one seemed to have empathy towards them, for some reason. Maybe it was pity. They both followed the captain and stood in the formation, waiting in line to meet the axeman in the bloody fate that she felt was entirely Bastion's fault.

This was when General Tullius stepped in to talk to Ulfric personally, though loudly enough for anyone in the courtyard to hear him. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." _Oh, so that's what he had done. In that case, yeah. He deserves the axe first._

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." It was just was just as Tullius ended his little speech when an echo of a noise could be heard, as if great stores of metal were being torn, or forced to bend. The noise sent a shiver up Skadi's spine, and her nostrils flared. She wasn't one for superstition or fear, but that noise had a bad, soul chilling sound to it.

But the Imperials dismissed it as nothing, and commanded the execution to continue. A priestess of Arkay began to give the group their last rights, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight divines upon yo-"

But an impatient soldier interrupted, Skadi could only assume that this was because the priestess had said eight- not nine- divines, walking to the block while saying, "By the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

"As you wish." Snapped the priestess before walking away.

"Come on. I haven't got all morning." The unnamed redheaded man was shoved to his knees by the captain, then her boot placed to his back, holding his neck down to the block while he glared up at the axe.

 _Oooo, watch out, we got a badass over here._ Skadi thought sarcastically, smile creeping across her face at how eager this man was to taste death, to taste the void and the loving embrace of Sithis.

"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?" But the reply was not needed as a sharp crunch was heard. With his neck severed, his spine crushed beneath the edge of the blade, his head rolled into the basket, blood gushing in scarlet streams from his open neck. His body was kicked over to lay haphazardly on the ground. The sight of his crimson stains caused a strange sort of arousal within Skadi. An excitement bred from the kill that she had always seemed to enjoy. Just seeing the blood made her thirst for the kill, made her want to feel how soft and warm the skin of life was when you drove something sharp through it.

It felt like a cruel aching want that laced her back and body, making her work her teeth into the inside of her cheek until she bled. Anything to taste blood, to feel that rush, to get that high. Anything to simulate the rituals she did within the privacy of her sanctuary.

"Next! The Nord in rags." The captain cried, jerking Skadi out of her intense moment of fantasy.

The echoing sound came again, this time louder, as if closer. People all around looked to the sky, the mountains, waiting, searching. Skadi could feel the fear building in her gut, the tension, like something primal inside of her stirring to life. _Why?_ She wondered. _Why does this sound make me fear, when not even the thought of my own death can break my apathy?_

"I said: Next. Prisoner!" The Imperial-blooded captain said again, this time her tone even shorter sounding than before, and how she managed that, Skadi would never figure out.

Skadi stepped up to the block. A hand was placed on her right shoulder, the toe of a boot pressed into the back of her left knee, forcing her down. The sole of a foot shoved her neck down to the block.

 _Now I go to meet you, Father. Hopefully I have done you and Mother proud._

It was then, as she looked into the blade of the headman's axe, that she saw and heard it. A great black snake-like beast with wings. She could see it in the sliver of sky between the tower, and the mountain.

She jumped in surprise, sending the captain tumbling onto her ass. "The fuck is that?!" She exclaims as the beast lands on the roof of the tower, the weight of it's landing knocking the executor off his feet. As he falls, he lands on his own axe in a fatal way, impaling himself in the chest.

 _Dragon._

It roared, great and powerful. The sound snapping, like a great lightning bolt striking, her vision turning blue and blurring for a second. A giant storm suddenly appearing overhead, out of nowhere, meteors raining from the sky from the wicked clouds. It roared again, this time Skadi fell to the ground, vision going black as she passed out.

When her sight came back it was blurry. Ralof was crouched next to her, shouting at her to get up and come with him. I need to find my contract. Bastion is... Where is he... It hurt to think, but she needed to focus. She was trained to handle all situations, but... A dragon? There was no such training, no way to prepare. Dragons were a myth, stuff of legend until only seconds ago.

Looking around, she spotted her contract getting up from the ground, or rather, trying to do so with his hands bound, and looking like an incompetent fool. Running to him, she yanked him up as best she could and drug him with her. He was not going to die without giving her the cut of money she was promised, and she was not going to die here.

"Come on!" She shouted at him, pulling him into the tower near where Lokir had been shot down in his stride.

Inside the tower, Ralof was waiting, as well as Ulfric. A few other men were lying injured on the floor, blood pooling around their bodies as they grasped at their wounds, still in shock; faces twisted in fear and pain and lit by the few scant candles found inside the base floor of the stone tower.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof started, his voice tired, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric said, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, richly accented by the northern, truer Nord lifestyle. His voice by itself held such power and depth, commanding, no, demanding respect and attention from any within the area. Needless to say Skadi was finding herself taking a liking to the sound, but a nice voice wasn't going to distract her right now. No. She needed to survive this new hell before she could even recognise fondness of anything.

"We need to move. Now!" He commanded. Ralof, and a few other able bodied troops quickly made their way up the stairs. Skadi followed Ralof up through the tower, when suddenly the black dragon ripped a hole in the stone wall.

"Gods fuck!" She exclaimed, jumping back several feet with a look of terror plastered over her face, practically shoving her contract down the stairs in her hurry to get them both out of the way. What she could now consider the practical antichrist to her world began to breathe fire into the tower, the tongues of hot flames seeming to bake her skin even as she tried to back further away down the stairs. She vehemently frowned at the scent of her singed hair while hiding. She could hear a loud snap, then a crunch, as the dragon lunged it's head into the tower and caught someone in it's foul maw before flying off to sow more destruction across the small town.

Batting at her hair , she made her way back up the staircase cautiously. Within seconds, Ralof found them both and began to prattle on about something. "See the Inn on the other side?

"Yeah." She responded, she could feel Bastion's chest pressed against her back as he craned his neck to see what Ralof was talking about, meaning that the tumble down the stairs hadn't killed him or left him knocked out yet again.

"Jump through the roof and keep going." He said in a flat voice.

"How do I jump that far with my hands bou-" She went to respond in an incredulous tone.

"Just jump!" He exclaimed.

Skadi did. Surprisingly, the floor didn't fall out under her feet, and she managed to jump without missing the hole in the roof while her hands were bound in front of her. She could only hope that Bastion would share her luc-

 **Thwump!** He landed beside her, maybe a bit unsteady on the landing. Running through the building, the hopped down through a hole in the floor and exited the Inn. The broken, burnt wood of the building cutting her feet and littering her foot with splinters, but she couldn't feel the pain. She was high on adrenaline and could afford, at least for now, to ignore her wounds and get to safety. She would bandage herself later, barring her ending up on the wrong side of an angry dragon's teeth.

Upon coming outside she again met the brown haired, brown eyed list man named Hadvar. He was yelling at what Skadi assumed was the same young boy from earlier, the one that wanted to watch the soldiers. Hadvar was yelling at him to get to safety, begging him to leave the side of his badly injured father and come to what could only be considered relative safety.

As the boy reluctantly left the side of his maimed father, the great black dragon landed behind him, opening his massive mouth and letting loose that all consuming orange flame. The fire spread around both the boy and his father, engulfing them. You could hear the screams over the hungry roar of the fire, the sobbing, pained screams of that little child. The crying continued as the flames went out, the dragon seeming long since taken to the air now, as the unrecognisable burnt body of the child stumbled forward with a hand outreached, almost zombie like. The skin was blackened to a crispy outer coating, the tip of the nose, eyes and lips burned away to reveal the teeth and stringy muscle beneath. This creature let out one last inhuman screech before falling to its knees and passing to the void.

Ralof turned away, the names of the now damned falling from his tongue like bricks as he rose his hand to his face, obviously disgusted and shocked by the corpse of the once recognisable human. Disgusted because he had been so close to saving the boy, disgusted because of the violence he had seen, disgusted by the fact that this was all going on and even with all his might as a soldier, he still couldn't protect those he was sworn to protect.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he finally looked at the odd duo. "Still alive prisoners? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." Referencing to a fellow troop in banded iron armor, "Gunnar, I have to find General Tullius and join the defense... Take care."

With only those short instructions, he took off, leaving her and Bastion to chase after him and avoid the flames from the dragon's maw. He instructed them to stay close to him and keep close to the walls. The hellbat landing almost directly on top of them, craning its long neck over the wall and almost past a house, it ignored them.

She ran, trying her best to stay close to Hadvar, avoid falling and flaming debris, stay balanced and keep track of Bastion all with her hands bound. She watched on as people, Imperial and Stormcloak soldiers alike, ran at the beast, only to be roasted alive in their armor. You couldn't even hear their dying screams over the sounds of the consuming fire.

She could hear the voice of General Tullius yell out above all the noise, telling the men to fall back into the keep, to retreat.

Narrowly avoiding the dragon a few times before, they had made it to the tiny keep, and as it so happened, Ralof was arriving at the same time as them.

"Ralof, you damn traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar snapped, his voice stressed and angry.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. No stopping us this time." Ralof returned in a more level sounding voice considering all of the destruction around them.

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde! C'mon prisoner."

" _O-ho-ho_. Petty now aren't we, Hadvar?" Red-haired Skadi remarked with a small smirk. She didn't like how he ordered her around. She was a respected assassin, a high servant of the Dread Father, a dangerous and lithe predator! She would take orders from him no more! She turned away from Hadvar, and trotted, as fast she could with Bastion in tow, over to Ralof, not bothering to throw a glance behind her to see if Hadvar would try to force them into following him.

After entering the keep, she immediately spotted a dead man dressed in Stormcloak garb. Ralof recognised this man, and called him by a name that Skadi didn't quite catch. He said a quick prayer over the body and turned to them.

"Looks like we're the only ones that've made it. That thing was a dragon, no doubt, just like the children's stories and the legends. The Harbingers of the end times. We better get moving, here, let me see if I can get those binds off you."

In a fluid movement, the binds were cut from her wrists, instantly freeing her hands. Rolling her wrists, she smiled, watching Ralof go to Bastion and remove him from bondage as well. It felt so good and liberating to be removed from that ridiculous rope.

Ralof looked at his dead friend, a small twinge of sadness painting his face. "Go ahead and take his weapon and armor. No shame in using a fallen friend's axe."

She looked from him, to her companion, and said, "I think Bastion would fit that outfit better, no? It is man's armor. I find it easier to move with less cloth in the way to be honest." To this Ralof nodded, and Bastion fitted himself in the cuirass, leggings, and fur boots and i as gingerly of a manner as possible, took the axe from the tight grip of the dead man.

Bastion was still playing around with the cuirass and getting used to the axe when after a short pause, Ralof spoke. "So... Skadi. Is it true what they said about you at the block?"

"What do you mean?"

"They called you a convicted criminal, a murder of officials. Is it true?" His tone carried a certain weight with it, a weight that carried a message that conveyed very clearly to her. He didn't know if he could trust her or not. He wanted to know if she was an assassin like they had said, a worshipper of Sithis and death.

Skadi, being a smart woman and knowing that distrust was bad and the truth would cause him to distrust her, decided to lie. "I'm was a sellsword in Cyrodiil. Times are hard there, harder than most people would care to think. Children and elderly starving in the streets of the Imperial City. It never really recovered from the pillage by the Thalmor, and so much was lost to fires. It made the city weak, and the drug lords and other leeches snuck in and rose to power. I was born in the generation after the Sacking, after the war. So Bastion nor I no anything but surviving on the streets, using our cunning to survive, so if that meant I had to sell my sword to a drug lord, I did. If killing someone that drug lord had an issue with meant that my family could live another week, so be it. In the big, poor, city, this pride and honor thing that the rest of you nords hold dear? It just doesn't hold up. It doesn't help you, it gets you killed, plain and simple."

Her lie hadn't really been a _complete_ lie. The Imperial province was sorely hurt and hadn't recovered from the war that was now thirty years old. People really were starving in the streets and having to do crime to survive, and she had truly grown up in the generation post-war, in a crumbling city where she had to use wits and cunning to live. It wasn't the reason she enjoyed killing, but it gave her income and sated the bloodlust she had developed over time.

He looked at her, blinking once, but before he could say anything, she spoke once more, "So if those things make me a convicted criminal, so be it. I never really wanted to cause any harm, but my hand has always been forced."

With a short pause, Ralof responded, "Oh. I wasn't aware that it was that rough in Cyrodiil. They always make it seem so regal and upper-class. Hearing it from someone who's actually migrated away makes it all seem so much more real and much sadder to think about."

"The worst thing is, the Empire is spending so much money to fight this civil war in Skyrim. I left because the taxes became too high and I simply couldn't afford to live anymore."

He chose not to comment on this part, apparently not wanting to get into any sort of argument about religion and divines. A wise move that Skadi recognised, for she too wished to avoid that conversation for as long as possible.

Sitting down on one of the two chairs, the other seat being taken by the body of the dead Stormcloak, Skadi pulled one foot onto her lap. The adrenaline had started to fade for her, her head throbbed with a low pounding thud, and her feet cried out from the charred splinters still lodged in her foot from the jump into the burning inn and over various other smoldering materials. She would take a quick moment to heal her own self before in turn casting a simple healing spell on Bastion. When she offered to use her magic on Ralof, he refused and stated that she needed to reserve her energy in case something happened.

They soon attempted to find a way out of the circular stone room, but found themselves trapped. Skadi's adept ears picked up the sound of clanking armor coming their way. Though, she was sure that with how loud the armor was and how badly noises could echo within this small stone keep, a blind and hard of hearing fool could tell danger was coming towards them.

"Imperials? We should hide." She said quickly, in a quiet voice as she crouched down to hide against the wall next to one of the two locked Iron-bar gates. Hastily unlocking the iron gate, the Imperial-blooded Captain and a foot soldier ran in.

Perfect. The helmets cut their peripheral vision, Skadi and her group were unseen. Grabbing the axe from Bastion's hand, Skadi threw it, aiming for the foot soldier who was currently only a mere three or four feet from her. Had he been any further, and she was uncertain that she would have been able to hit him with such accuracy. He was wearing leather armor, which would be cut through with less force than the Captain's steel armor. A split second after the axe left her hand and buried itself into the back of the leather-wearer, she rushed up behind the Captain, putting her fingers under the back of the helmet and ripping it off. She quickly noted how soft the Captain's short brown hair felt between her fingers as she placed a hand on the back of the head, and a hand on the opposite side of the woman's jaw, and twisted. _Hard._

The foot soldier's body hit the ground as the satisfying cracking of vertebrae sounded from the domineering Captain's neck. Then the man screamed in agony. She had missed his spine, but he would still bleed out internally in mere few moment. Skadi walked to him, put a foot in the back of the axe, and forced it down further. The wicked squelch bringing an end to the man's short suffering as the edge cut through vital arteries and organs.

Bending down, she ripped the axe from the body, and handed it back to Bastion, saying nothing in response to Ralof's surprised expression, but bending down and starting to search the Captain's body. "Maybe one of them has a key to that locked door." She said to herself.

Finding the key, she walked to the door, slipped the key in the lock, and turned it, internally pleased at the clicking noise as the door came open. "Got it. C'mon guys."


End file.
